


I was born with lightning in my heels

by Shadowcrawler



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Barrel racing, Cowboys & Cowgirls, F/F, First Meetings, Flirting, Rodeo Competitions, Skimmons Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26426626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcrawler/pseuds/Shadowcrawler
Summary: While competing at the local rodeo, Skye runs into a cute girl.
Relationships: Jemma Simmons/Skye | Daisy Johnson, Skye | Daisy Johnson & Antoine Triplett
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23
Collections: Bioquake Week 2020





	I was born with lightning in my heels

**Author's Note:**

> This is my extremely loose interpretation of Bioquake day 2, "You were dressed as a cowboy." Much like the pirate's code, I consider prompts to be more like guidelines than actual rules.
> 
> I used to be a horse girl, but I only ever did English and Western pleasure riding, never rodeo stuff and definitely not barrel racing, so please forgive any egregious errors. I'd recommend looking up a video or two of barrel racing, it's a very cool sport.
> 
> I did do an absurd amount of research about Quarter Horse bloodlines, but I couldn't figure out a good way to work in the explanation of Zephyr Two's name, so I'll just say here that she's supposed to be a descendant of Two Eyed Jack, which are said to be one-person horses. This is maybe the dorkiest thing I've ever put in a story.

“You nervous?”

Skye shrugs. “A little. Mostly about how Zeph’s gonna react to everything.”

“She’s gonna do great.” Trip gives Skye a reassuring shoulder squeeze. “You’ve got her bombproof.”

“Theoretically.”

“Hey,” May cuts in from the driver’s seat. “No negative talk. Just focus on the ride.”

“Yes, _Mom_.” Skye rolls her eyes at Trip, who just laughs. 

“I can still stick you with mucking duty for everyone,” May says, though she doesn’t sound that serious about it.

Skye glances behind them, even though she obviously can’t see the two horses in the trailer they’re hauling. “She’s fine,” May sighs. “She loads like a dream and this isn’t even her first time on a highway. Stop worrying.”

“Girl, no wonder she thinks you’re her mama,” teases Trip, “you worry enough.”

“Hey, it’s not _my_ fault the Wards wean early.”

“No, but you did start coddling her the minute you met her,” May says dryly. “She’s a good horse. She’ll be fine.”

“And so will you,” Coulson adds. “You and Trip both.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She’s been working at the barn since she was sixteen, but even after two years she’s not quite used to Coulson’s unwavering encouragement. May’s stern, no-nonsense demeanor is much closer to what she’s used to. 

Shaking off her discomfort, she grins at Trip. “First and second?”

“Hell yes. Silver’s a good color on you, y’know.”

“Oh shut up.” She bumps her shoulder with his affectionately. 

They’re there as soon as they’re allowed to be, because May insists on being early for everything. For once, the quiet of the rodeo grounds at eight fifteen AM is comforting instead of eerie. Youth barrel racing isn’t until mid-morning, after the opening ceremonies and drill team demonstration, so they’ve got a little while to settle in. Skye and Trip make sure Zeph and Wolf are settled in and then sneak off to wander.

The local rodeo has always had a section for food vendors and local businesses to rent booths, but lately they’ve been trying to court bigwigs like Ariat and Wrangler. So this year the vendor area is less a corridor of weather-beaten tents and more a decently put-together cluster of booths with real signs and displays. “Aw,” Trip says, putting a hand on his heart. “It looks like a real rodeo now.”

“It’s all grown up,” Skye agrees with a grin. “C’mon, let’s go. Loser buys lunch on the way home.” They have a standing contest to see who can get either the most freebies from the vendors, or the coolest freebie. 

Skye starts at one end, Trip the other. She’s able to charm the Ariat sales guy out of a keychain and a flask holder right away, even though, as he tells her with a wink, “I’m only s’posed to let people pick _one_ , but I can make an exception for a lady.” After that, she’s in a great mood, practically whistling as she heads down the next few booths. 

She squints at one with a stylized line drawing of a coyote’s face, labeled The Coyote Cowgirl. It seems to be selling T-shirts, mostly, though they have a display of glasses that claim to be “blue-light glasses!” That’s weird enough that she stops to look at them. 

“Howdy!” says someone in a chipper, overexaggerated Southern accent. 

Skye blinks. Somehow she hadn’t noticed there was anyone in the booth, but there is. She’s a skinny white girl with light brown hair and glasses, and she’s wearing the cleanest jeans Skye has ever seen, a coral-colored shirt with a sketch of a person lifting a hay bale out of a truck bed with the caption “do you even lift?,” and a cowboy hat that might as well still have the tag on it. “Welcome to the Coyote Cowgirl,” the girl says, offering a hand. “I’m Jemma.”

“Hi,” Skye says, giving her a quick handshake and glancing at the back wall of the booth. She can’t read all of the T-shirts, but one of them features a rider on horseback brandishing a gun with the caption “welcome to the gun show,” which tells her all she wants to know about this booth. “Uh, so you guys are...cowgirls?”

Jemma looks slightly embarrassed and says, “Yes?” in that same accent. It sounds even less convincing, if that’s possible. She rubs at her neck and gives Skye a sheepish smile.

“You’re dressed as a cowgirl,” Skye says, keeping her tone light and teasing. “And your booth says ‘cowgirl.’ So I was wondering. Gimme the spiel.”

“Yes,” Jemma says, her cheeks getting a little pink. “Well, we offer a variety of designs that are both stylish and feminine, that reflect the mystery and character of the women of the West, who fight for what they believe in and look great doing it.” Her eyes are a little glazed over as she recites this. 

Skye can’t help it - she laughs so hard she snorts, and has to cover her face with her hand. “I’m sorry,” she says after a second. “They really made you memorize all that, huh?” 

Jemma’s flush gets brighter. “I’m good at memorization,” she says, a little defensively. Her accent’s slipping a little, letting out hints of - is that an _English_ accent?

“Hey, it’s a good sales pitch,” Skye says with a reassuring smile. “I’m Skye, by the way.”

“Hi, Skye,” Jemma says, rubbing at her neck again. “It’s nice to meet you.” She drops the accent fully now, though she’s speaking a bit quieter as if she’s afraid to be caught out of character. Her accent sounds like Mary Poppins.

That’s cute enough that Skye decides to play nice. “Yeah. I don’t mean to be an asshole, promise. I might even buy one of these shirts.” Skye leans onto the table Jemma’s standing behind, studying the shirts. “You got any freebies?”

“We’ve got lip balm,” Jemma offers, pointing to a little basketful at one corner of the table. 

“Thanks.” Skye grabs one and looks at the shirts again. “Hm. How much is the gun show one?” It’s stupid, but it’s a tank top, so she could wear it while training. 

“Twenty six dollars.”

Ouch. Well, it isn’t the dumbest thing she’s done for a cute girl. “Alright, gimme a medium of those,” she says, pulling out her wallet. 

Just as Jemma goes to grab the shirt, Trip comes up behind her. “Hey. Wrangler’s doing a raffle for a $200 gift card, if you care.” Then he spots Jemma and grins. “Well, _hey_ there.”

“I’m almost done here,” Skye says quickly, handing Jemma the cash and shooting him a warning look. The last thing she needs is for Trip to start flirting with this girl too. “You get anything else good?”

“Not really.” Trip caught her look and smirks at her. “Who’s this?”

“Howdy,” Jemma says, putting the terrible accent back on. “I’m Jemma.”

“The Coyote Cowgirl,” Trip reads on the sign. “Cool. Nice to meet you, Jemma. You, c’mon, we should get back before May figures out we’re gone.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Skye waves him off. 

“Where y’all going?” Jemma asks. Now that Skye knows what her real voice sounds like, it’s comical how much she’s forcing the Southern accent. 

“ _Well,_ ” Trip says, clapping a hand on Skye’s shoulder. “Skye and I are competing in the youth barrel racing. You should come watch us if you get a chance. We’re definitely gonna take first and second.”

Jemma’s eyes flash to Trip’s hand on her shoulder, and - is that a hint of disappointment on her face? It’s impossible to tell because a second later she’s back to customer service bot. “Maybe I will,” she says with a wave. “Very nice to meet you both. Y’all have a good day, and good luck, alright?”

“Thanks!” Skye says, taking one last look over her shoulder before Trip herds her away. 

“She’s not the kind of freebie I meant,” Trip teases once they’re out of earshot.

“Jesus, Trip! We were just talking a little, that’s all.”

“And you bought one of those dumb shirts from her.” He’s grinning mischievously.

“It’s a tank top, which I always need more of, and shut up.”

“Uh huh.” Trip winks at her. “I bet she sneaks away to come watch you.”

Skye snorts. “Whatever. I don’t even know if she likes girls, it’s not like we talked about anything serious. Just those stupid shirts mostly.”

“But you wanted to?”

“Maybe,” Skye says through gritted teeth. 

Trip doesn’t say anything else, just wears the same shit-eating grin until they get back to the stables. Skye takes a deep breath, letting go of the jittery excitement she’d felt talking to Jemma and the annoyance of Trip’s teasing, and heads for Zeph’s stall.

The black mare has her head out of the stall, ears flicking around to take in all the new noises. She spots Daisy and nickers. 

“Hi, sweetie,” Daisy says, reaching to give her a friendly scratch on the withers. “You ready for your big day?” Zeph, of course, doesn’t answer, but she shuts her eyes and lets out a sigh of contentment. 

From the expo hall, she can hear the noise of the crowd starting to file in, and she goes to grab Zeph’s tack. On the way, she runs into Coulson. “Oh good,” he says, “May was looking for you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m taking her out to warm up now.”

“Knock ‘em dead, kid,” he says, giving her a supportive pat on the shoulder. 

“Thanks, boss,” she says with a playful grin. He rolls his eyes fondly but lets her go on.

Zeph is excellent in the warm up area, as always. Even when other horses start showing up, she doesn’t pay them any further interest than a curious glance. Skye wishes she could say the same, but the instant she spots a familiar blonde head on a sorrel stallion she groans out loud.

“Hi, Skye,” says her second-worst enemy.

“Ruby,” Skye says, giving her a courteous nod. “Des looks good.”

“Of course he does,” Ruby says with a smirk. “He’s a champion, after all. A champion horse for a champion rider.”

“Yeah, I remember last year. If you don’t mind, Zeph and I are gonna-”

“I hope someday you get your own horse,” Ruby interrupts, “and you don’t just keep riding whatever up-and-coming Ward horse they stick you with. Whose is this one, Grant’s? Hopefully you can do better than second place this time.”

Skye grits her teeth and counts to ten. “Yeah, she’s Grant’s. And we’re busy. Good luck today.” She turns Zeph away, feeling Ruby’s smirk follow her. 

She keeps Zeph doing casual laps for a few minutes, since she can hear the drill team starting their routine. Soon enough, Trip and Wolf show up and he puts the bay gelding through the same routine. After they’re done, Trip guides Wolf over alongside Zeph. “Hey,” he says. “Bet I can guess where that glare came from.”

“I’m fine,” grumbles Skye. As if to argue with her, Zeph lets out a nervous snort and raises her head high, looking around carefully. 

“Ignore Ruby. She’s trying to get in your head.” Trip rolls his eyes. “She’s really scared of you, y’know. She’s never given me this much shit and we’ve been coming to the same shows since we were both little kids. I think you coming out of nowhere and then almost beating her last year freaked her out.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Skye glances at her watch and turns Zeph to exit the warm up area. “C’mon, we’d better head over there. You’re up first.”

Since it’s just the local rodeo, there are only seven youth racers signed up. May always starts out their season with this one, since it’s so low-stakes, and Skye in particular is mostly only here to give Zeph a taste of how competition works. But now there’s an itch beneath her skin, and as she and Zeph head to the waiting area for entrants she closes her eyes and imagines the look on Ruby’s face if they win. 

Trip and Wolf have a great round, coming in at sixteen point two six seconds. As he’s leaving the arena, Skye gives him a thumbs up, which he returns. Ruby’s up next, then another girl, then Skye. Which is good, because after Ruby’s turn Skye will know exactly what time she has to beat. 

It’s aggravating to admit, but Destroyer of Worlds is a great horse. He’s a descendant of Doc Bar, which Ruby and her family will never shut up about, and he turns beautifully, gliding around the barrels like he was born to it. And Ruby herself is great, guiding him just close enough to nudge the barrels but not knock them over. She might be a spoiled rich kid, but she didn’t beat Skye last year out of sheer luck. Ruby’s final time is fifteen point nine seconds, and when she rides past Skye on her way out of the arena she gives her a smirk and an exaggerated wink.

“We’ll show her, huh, girl?” Skye murmurs to Zeph, who flicks an ear back in response. 

In no time at all the announcer is calling, “Next up, Skye Johnson riding Zephyr Two!”

Skye nudges Zeph with her heels and she trots forward, ears pricked and eager as she recognizes the familiar three-barrel cloverleaf in front of them. She doesn’t seem at all rattled or distracted by the crowd noise, which is a good sign. Skye urges her into a gallop and they’re off. 

Zeph tends to favor her left side a bit, which Skye has used to their advantage. She’s worked with her since she was a filly, ensuring near-perfect balance control so that Zeph can hug the barrels without the risk of tipping. Now, Zeph responds to every tiny cue from her, the slightest movement of her heel guiding her through the sharp turn around the first barrel. Skye feels her foot scrape the barrel, but the crowd’s gasp isn’t followed by a groan, so she shifts her focus to the next one.

Zeph goes a bit wide around barrel two, but she’s able to bring her around quickly enough, and then they dash around the third barrel in a perfect arc and it’s the final sprint to the finish line. “Fifteen point seven nine,” says the announcer, and it takes a second for the time to sink in. Then she pumps her fist in the air and reaches down to hug Zeph’s neck. 

Skye’s always careful not to look at the crowd until after the race, but once she’s slowed Zeph she allows herself a quick glance over her shoulder. Usually she’s looking for May and Coulson, but this time she spots a familiar coral shirt. Jemma’s sitting in the front row, clapping like Skye’s just cured cancer or something. 

Skye doesn’t go out of her way to gloat to Ruby, but the other girl throws her such a dirty look as they’re waiting for the other contestants to finish that Skye can’t help but grin. “Hey, someone might still beat me,” she says cheerfully. Ruby huffs and moves Des as far away from her as she possibly can. 

Since it’s just a local rodeo, youth winners really only get bragging rights, a wooden plaque, and a $300 purse. It was never about the money, anyway, but Skye can’t deny the thrill that runs down her spine when they announce her name again and she and Zeph go out to accept the prizes. Ruby gets second place, and Skye can practically feel the resentment coming off of her in waves. 

Once she’s cooled Zeph down, she and Trip meet back up in the barn to start packing up. “Hey there, Miss Champion,” Trip says, giving her a high five and a hug. “You kicked ass today.”

“Thanks! I mean, you were good too.”

“We did just fine.” Trip gives Wolf a good scratch at the base of his mane, which makes the gelding close his eyes and shift his weight towards him. 

“Yeah, this very good girl is gonna get so many treats when we get back.” Skye starts to undo the girth of the saddle so she can pull it off. “Where’s the adults?”

“Right here,” May calls from one of the barn doorways. “Nicely done.” This is the equivalent of a parade from May. 

Coulson, on the other hand, comes up to give her a big bear hug. “You guys were so great!” he says, going to hug Trip next. “We are definitely going out tonight to celebrate.”

“Aw, you don’t have to do that,” Skye says, suddenly embarrassed. “I just did my best, and all that corny bullshit.”

“Excuse me, _I_ would love a free dinner tonight, please and thank you,” Trip says, elbowing her in the ribs hard enough that she yelps. 

May smirks. “You two deserve it. Let’s try and be out of here within thirty minutes, alright?”

“Aye aye.” Skye gives her a mock salute, which gets her an eyeroll, and then she turns back to finish untacking Zeph. She’s so focused on that, she jumps about a foot when she hears someone behind her say, “Skye?”

Zeph, equally startled, jerks her head up and tugs at her lead for a second before Skye gently pets her neck to calm her. “What?” she almost snaps, turning around. 

Jemma’s standing there, rubbing her neck again. “Hello,” she says, in her regular British accent. “I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay,” Skye says quickly, putting her hand over her heart for a second. “I was just, y’know, in the zone. Been an exciting morning. Hi. Uh, this is Zephyr or Zeph.” 

“Hello.” Jemma might not be a proper cowgirl, but someone’s clearly told her about how to conduct yourself around horses: no sudden movements, no loud talking, stay in their line of sight whenever possible. She reaches up tentatively toward Zeph’s neck, then, when Skye nods, she strokes her. “Oh, she’s so soft.” Zeph’s ear turns toward her in acknowledgement, then swivels back to its resting position. 

“Yeah, her owners insist on special feed to make her coat shiny and soft, and I just bathed her last night. Fancy shampoo too.” 

“Oh, you don’t own her? I thought surely…” Jemma furrows her brow. 

Skye shakes her head and tries not to sound too bitter as she explains, “No, she belongs to the Wards. They’re kind of royalty around here. Technically she belongs to their son Ward, but Ward’s more interested in fucking around and showing off his cool truck than actually getting to know the horse his parents gift-wrapped for him, so I’ve been taking care of her and training her since she was practically a baby.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Jemma flushes. “Well, you and she, together you look…” Her cheeks get even pinker. “You make a beautiful pair.”

That cheers Skye up a little. “Thanks. She did most of the work, really.”

“No, you deserve at least some of the credit,” Jemma argues. “You’re the one who, presumably, trained her to race. It was very impressive. I’m not as familiar with the sport as most people here, but I can recognize talent and hard work when I see it.”

Skye smiles. “Did you just come over here to flatter me? ‘Cause I definitely don’t mind, but if I don’t finish getting Zeph untacked and load her up, my boss is gonna have my ass.”

“Er, no, I…” Jemma bites her lip, hesitates, then thrusts something at Skye. “Text me?”

Skye’s been handed phone numbers before, but it’s almost always guys who’ve been aggressively hitting on her despite her less-than-subtle brushoffs. This is an honest to god girl’s number, written in precise print that looks like a font or something. Trying to play it cool, she nods. “Yeah, totally. And, uh, thanks for the shirt.”

“Well, of course,” Jemma says with a nervous giggle. “We wouldn’t be much of a business if we didn’t sell you shirts, would we? Anyhow, I’ll leave you to it.”

“I saw you in the crowd,” Skye adds, on impulse. “Thanks for the cheering.”

“Like I said, impressive,” Jemma says, then, with an awkward little wave, she says, “See you later!” and scurries off.

Skye chuckles. “Hell of a morning,” she says, giving Zeph a pat on the shoulder before heading out to the truck with the saddle.


End file.
